


untitled budapest - ust

by orphan_account



Series: budapest [4]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 20:47:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>santana and brittany are assigned to the filthiest room santana's ever seen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	untitled budapest - ust

**Author's Note:**

> still haven't got a clue where this is going. but enjoy anyway.

Brittany twists and turns, tangling her legs in the white sheets until they’re entwined around her entire body. The mattress is hard and the bed smells vile, like cigarette smoke and vomit – in the bed next to hers, she hears Santana cough a little, turning to face her.

“Is this the best SHIELD could do? It’s fucking disgusting,” she whispers to Brittany.

“I guess this is what they meant by ‘laying low’,” Brittany whispers back. It’s definitely not the worst situation she’s been in – she thinks back to that night in the stables, back at the circus, the way the smell of horse and manure never wore off her clothes.

Something bumps against the wall adjacent to Santana’s bed. She squeaks and leaps off, backing herself into one of the four dark corners of the room. Brittany gets up and puts her ear against the wall.

“They’re having sex.” She giggles at the mortified look on Santana’s face.

“There’s no way I’m sleeping in that bed now,” she mutters, sinking to the floor. “I’ll just stay here.” She squeezes her eyes shut, and Brittany rolls her own.

“Santana. You can sleep beside me,” she notes the way Santana stiffens, but carries on anyway, “I promise I won’t steal the covers or anything.” She walks over to Santana and pulls her up – Santana’s hands are soft underneath her fingertips – and they both clamber into bed, turning their backs to each other.

“Goodnight, Santana.” Brittany can feel the heat from Santana’s body against her back and calves. Something coils in the pit of her stomach.

“Goodnight, Brittany,” mumbles Santana, falling asleep right away.

* * *

Santana wakes up and finds herself spooned around Brittany’s body, her arms locked around her waist, Brittany’s head tucked neatly beneath her chin. She squirms a little, eyes still cinched shut, trying to get out without waking Brittany, but Brittany’s fingers curl tightly around her wrist.

Brittany’s sleep shirt had ridden up during the night. Santana slowly flattens her palm against Brittany’s stomach; she stretches her hand and finds her thumb skimming the skin right under her breast. Her eyes snap open then, and she’s met with a curtain of blonde hair.

Fuck. How did that happen?

She inhales deeply, trying not to panic. Then she shifts her hand downwards slowly – the plan is to slip it out from under Brittany’s grasp, carefully, carefully – but she falters as her fingers brush over the soft skin of Brittany’s hipbone.

That’s when she notices that Brittany has stopped breathing.

She can almost feel Brittany’s eyes widen as her breathing shallows. Brittany puts her hand over Santana’s, threading their fingers together and slipping Santana’s hand down her stomach, past her waistband. Santana feels her fingers skim over soft skin and softer curls before she hears Brittany whisper something – did she say “touch me”? – and Santana snaps, drawing her hand back around Brittany’s body and oh god where the fuck is she going to put her hand now?

She settles on sitting up and fisting the dirty sheets on either side of her. She feels them rustle beneath her as Brittany twists around quickly.

“Santana…”

“I’m going to shower.” Her eyes burn and her words are clipped, her throat tight and dry around them. She feels Brittany's eyes on her back as she clenches her jaw and forces herself off the bed, slamming the bathroom door behind her. She yanks her clothes off and lets them fall to the floor, stepping into the tiny shower stall and twisting the knob until she’s hit with a fountain of hot water.

That’s when she lets herself feel her pulse racing, the erratic throb between her legs. She leans against the dirty wall and works her hand between her thighs quickly, the sound of water drowning out the gasps that leave her.

A shadow falls over her back and pale, slim hands spin her around; they slide over her skin until they cup her jaw and pull.

She runs her tongue over Brittany’s teeth, over the ridges on the roof of her mouth. Her back hits the cold tile wall and Brittany peels away, her hand traveling downwards.

“Let me help you,” she whispers, and suddenly she’s on her knees and Santana bites into the heel of her palm, stifling the noise. Brittany sets Santana’s right leg over her shoulder and digs her fingers into Santana's ass. She works slowly, making eye contact with her as she does. She alternates between sucking the flesh into her mouth and licking. The hot swipe of her tongue in firm, rough strokes over the wet of Santana’s flesh is enough to make Santana forget about SHIELD, forget why they're here, in this dirty motel room, forget her own name.

She shouts into her palm but Brittany pays no attention to her, determined to finish what she started. When Santana comes she feels the blood spill from beneath the skin of her palm onto her tongue, and she tightens her leg around Brittany’s shoulder, trying not to fall. Brittany keeps going until Santana begs her to stop.

Chuckling, she pushes herself off the floor until she’s looking down at Santana, her smile turning soft. Santana tries not to crack but she can’t help it; she lets the hard mask fall off her face for a split-second.

Brittany slips her fingers past Santana’s lips then kisses her – Santana tastes herself on Brittany's skin; on her fingers, on her tongue, on her teeth, on the inside of Brittany’s cheek.

* * *

Brittany waltzes out of the bathroom after Santana, towel wrapped tight around her body. Santana slips on her leather suit, a slight scowl on her face as she does so.

Brittany’s not sure what she's supposed to say, so she doesn’t say anything at all. She sits on the edge of the bed and slides her legs into her jeans, one after the other, before Santana tells her to put on her uniform.

“SHIELD just called. They want us to move in, ASAP.”

“Oh. Did they say why?”

“No,” she replies, and picks Brittany’s uniform up, bringing it over and setting it beside her gingerly. Brittany wraps her fingers around Santana's wrist and pulls herself up. For a moment, her eyes meet Santana’s, and she finds more questions there than answers. Santana holds her gaze before blinking stupidly and walking to the small window, facing the other way as Brittany changes.

* * *

Santana tries to stop herself from pulling Brittany into a kiss and telling her to be careful before they part ways.

(It doesn’t work.)

**Author's Note:**

> LEAVE FEEDBACK!!!!!!!!!!!!! thank you.


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